Once Upon A Time
by PetiteElefant
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a man who did very bad things. So much bad in fact, he was marked as unredeemable.Exiled from his home, he suffered gruesome punishment. Now he was broken. Beyond repair.But a brother granted him another chance. A chance at life. What, pray tell, could he do to prove that he wasn't a monster? There was that human. That little girl. Maybe that would work.
1. Chapter One--Snowflower

**_For those who are new here, welcome._**

**_This story is incredibly wild, confusing, sad, cute, fluffy, aggravating, wonderful, amusing, and enticingly adventurous._**

**_The first chapter is the hardest, so please bear with me because this was*exhale* different._**

**_For those of you who know me/this story..._**

**_I told you I would be back, didn't I?_**

**_This is not OHD. This is a do-over if you will._**

**_My first fanfiction was just that, a first. Hopefully this will be an improvement. _**

**_If not. At least I tried._**

**_Please enjoy it. I promise it will be better. Welcome back. I have missed you all._**

**_Happy reading._**

**_I respond to every review._**

**_Shout out to all those who expressed there love to One Hundred Days. I will give responses to those who reviewed the final two entries of OHD next chapter._**

**_I've missed you all. _**

**_I hope this doesn't disappoint you._**

**_-PetiteElefant_**

**_P.S- I haven't fully decided on the name of this story. I apologize in advance if I change it._**

**Chapter One: Snowflower**

Everyone lies. Everyone sins.

Some, like myself, made doing so an effortless routine.

My name in fact means The One Who Lies.

I am a monster.

Quite in both a literal and figurative sense.

I have harmed many. The blood on my hands the deepest of scarlets.

No longer am I proud of this.

I have been refined. Adjusted, if you will.

I am not supposed to be happy. Happiness was not an entity to felt, find, or even wish for, neither back then nor now.

My punishment, my dues, were to be everlasting. The length of my confinement a life sentence.

A death sentence.

Are these better words?

There I was supposed to wither and die as a firi blossom in the frost of winter. The bitter cold dries the frigid earth beneath it, choking it, sufficating ever so slowly. One by one it's delicate pink petals shrivel to a leathery brown and snap off, only to be carried away by the wind.

My life was as frail and fleeting as a single flower.

At the beginning, I knew not of whether my end would come as swiftly as being crushed by a heavy sole or ,perhaps, bit by bit like the drying up of thin, spidery roots. Yet it was neither. A gradual severing of the bud from it's stem by the blade of a pruning shear. Excruciating, deliberate.

My world was dark. My world was cold.

A faraway place of ruin and torment. That is where I was kept. That is where I was meant to die. Suffering was in fact, the objective. The method of which was very well-fabricated. Ailment inflicted in ,at first, subtle ,almost negligible ways...then, not long after, untold misery.

Chained to the inside wall of a jagged palisade within a murky cavern, I sat on a floor of icy rock, wearing very little, speculating what would happen to me. The darkness was so thick, so infinite, it almost had it's own consciousness. It was deviod of inhabitants save the nameless serpents whose collective murmurs of ghastly hisses would echo throughout the cave as they slithered over the surface of the blackened ice. I was constantly terrified.

Usually they kept to themselves, but once in a red moon, one would grow restless and I would hear a hollow croon as one approached me. Then, before I had a moment to scrabble away, a warm, sticky mass would creep across my feet. It was only then that would remember how large they were, some longer than my own height. Soon others would follow, and I didn't dare breathe noisily let alone move, for I knew from experience that doing so would provoke them. Oftentimes, I wasn't attacked albeit they left behind a viscid ooze that would cause sores to bubble up on my skin. They would itch and grow and bleed. Making any movement was uncomfortable.

Above my head icicles thawed and refroze, a cycle which produced an incessant drip, drip, drip. The cold water trickled onto my hair and soaked my body, and I would become gravely ill, accompanied persistent, violent fevers.

I was left alone initially, not having even an inkling of where I was. I attempted to yell for help but the efforts were futile. I was muted. My muzzle reduced me to silence. For days I called out. Pathetic squeaks were all that emerged.

They led me to believe that I was in solitude, that they wouldn't return. That they hadn't been watching me every moment. Eventually, on a day on which I cannot recall, they emerged. Slinking out like phantoms from the shadows. Cackling, laughing, like fowl.

The rank air was heavy with the breath of my brothers. What resulted was unimaginable.

Who would have known that hell was such a cold and barren ward?

Night and day they would come and I was to serve my punishment in passive silence. All there was to drink was that of the spilt blood of my sins, and all there was to eat were the ripened fruits of my transgressions. When I was awake I saw them, when I was asleep I saw them.

I cannot remember when I stopped counting the hours, the days, the weeks, the months I was in captivity. Consciousness was an unending nightmare, so I prayed for oblivion, when my body could no longer live for me, the scent of death lingering by my face.

After months my perpetual affliction, I awoke to the eyes of crimson as I had done for seemingly aeons. Those eyes of vermillion that belonged to my family, my family of blood, whom as an adversary they had handled me. The red eyes of hatred.

After being beaten, burned, staved, and otherwise wounded in which I will refrain from listing, I could not see, nor smell. Everything had pooled to an unlit black. My senses were numbed, truncated.

But I could hear. I heard dark, seething voices. Venomous. Icy.

"This is the last day. The last day of our betrayer." they said. "He'll be dead. He cannot live. Our mirth has finally ended."

That place...those dreadful eyes...how I still shiver. How I still quake.

Alas, I was not unlike a firi flower. I did wither.

But, my dear reader, I did not die.

Firi flowers are quite peculiar flora. They faint almost of fright at the slightest hint of cold, curling under on themselves and receding into the ground. Per contra, even in the dead of even the harshest winter, it germinates deep within the cryotic soil when a warmth beneath the layer moistens it to a loam.

As it grows, it battles the confines of the frozen earth until it breaks the hardened surface. It braces the frost and its petals bloom fuller and brighter than ever. It cranes and stretches for a single beam of light, and upon finding it, relishes in it—as if seeing it for the first time.

A ressurection.

And as I lay there, at my darkest moment, I took my final breaths. Yet, with my demise on the horizon, I felt an eerie warmth. Something that I hadn't felt in such a long while.

A golden sliver of hope came to liberate me. To bring life to a wilted flower on the verge of death.

It is only now that I recognize, at least in s surprisingly figurative sense, what is was.

It was my savior.

She did not know it but...

It was she.

Her.

My ray.

_My light._

_**REVIEW!**_


	2. Chapter Two--Tag You're It

**_Hey everyone!_**

**_Sorry that's it's been a bit. I told myself I would pursue a different hobby for a week and turns out, I love it._**

**_What hobby you ask?_**

**_Making ASMR videos on YouTube._**

**_Yeah. If you don't know what that is...um...just look up my channel. It's my same username._**

**_On the other foot, here is the second chapter! Took me AGES to write, re-write, and re-re-write. So I hope you guys really like it. It was so much fun._**

**_Like I promised I'm going to answer OHD's final reviews and then OUAT's._**

**_I always answer reviews before the chapter. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience to my shadow readers, I know how annoying it is, just keep on scrolling._**

**_Hopefully this chapter will raise a TON of new questions, even from my OHDers!_**

**_I have changed...EVERYTHING!_**

**_-PetiteElefant_**

**_P.S.-Please don't be a ghost my shadowers, I love getting reviews and I always send love back!_**

**_Reviews:_**

**_OHD's Last Lovers!_**

**_Chapter 20_**

**_Nani-You weren't crazy. It was only afterwards that apologized for the Liam thing(: Thanks for your love on OHD. I hope you'll like this story too!(And I haven't forgotten about my promise with Lilo and Stitch. I will make this happen :D)_**

**_DarkMarina-Hey gurl! Your words of encouragement from OHD have stuck with me. I hope you don't think I was giving up when I stopped writing it. We've been through a lot with Peyton together. But I hope this story you'll adore even more and that it will make you "pee" as well! Thanks for the support. _**

**_AngelicScream-Hey! Well if it isn't Little Angel(: The fact that you read and reread OHD just makes me want to float. Like with happiness. It also makes me super guilty that I bailed on it. I hope you find the same attachment with this story. (IT'LL BE SO MUCH BETTER TRUST MEH) I hope it'll keep you up at night. In a good way of course._**

**_Chapter 21_**

**_Arrowhead1996-I'm so glad you didn't bawl your head off! I told I would be back! And I assure you it'll be better._**

**_Pilar (A ShadowReader No Longer)-I am honoured to have been your first review. Yes, my family doesn't know I write fanfiction either. It's just one of those things I'm not comfortable sharing with people. (I have a huge fear of judgement) So I totally understand where you're coming from. This (Loki) fandom is my only fandom but it's SUPER personal to me. I hope you can still enjoy and review this story though. I'll keep your secret(: P.S.-your name is beautiful, I'm jealous_**

**_Anonymous-YOU'VE READ OHD SINCE DAY ONE. I love you! I'm so glad you came out of your shell. I appreciate you staying with OHD especially because of how irritating it was. I hope this story keeps you on your toes too!_**

**_Chapter 22_**

**_hauntedone-I hope you like it! :D_**

_****I love all of my Ingamarians!****_

**_xxxxxxxxxxxxx_**

**_OUAP_**

**_Chapter 1_**

**_sparki111-THANK YOU! (I already showed my love for your review but I'll do it again) THANGYASAAAMAAAAA! Oh, and don't get used to the dark and dreary. This story is so fluffy it may make you throw up :D P.S-I MAKE REFERENCE TO YOUR TREE!_**

**_AngelicScream-Little Angel, zank juu. Yes! I was going for the big ending. Oh, I love Loki's point of view. Hopefully I'll be using it again. ILY!_**

**_Jenn (msgone)-Thanks! Aww): I'm sorry about you're puppy. She's beautiful. _**

**_hauntedone-YEAH! That was one of my many mistakes with OHD, I never told what happened to him in captivity. *shakes head* Thank you! Enjoy this story!_**

**_Arrowhead1996-Thank you! Ahh, it was sweet wasn't it? *blushes* Enjoy this chapter and it's sweetness!_**

**_Pilar (ShadowReader)-YAYYY! Jes, I am soo back. And yes, unfortunately I did steal a couple of lines from OHD. Haha, I was hoping no one noticed LOL. And you are so welcome, I didn't want to say goodbye either. The question is IS Peyton still Peyton? You'll have to see :D Oh, I totally gave Loki those hugs for you. He liked them._**

**_Thanks again everyone!_**

**Chapter Two: Tag You're It**

* * *

_Somewhere in the future..._

Towering above him was one of the hundreds of great maples that were clustered throughout The Woode. It was late autumn and most of the forest had already exhibited its merry display of yellows, pinks, and reds. Sadly enough, the woode was beginning to shed its colour into an bland array of orangish-browns. The forest floor was submerged in a thick coverlet of orange, purple, and brown leaves, making it impossible for even the smallest birds to land quietly.

This one particular tree, however, seemed to want to cheat death. Not a single one of its leaves had fallen. A late bloomer, its foliage remained a cheerful shade of scarlet. "Star Tree" is what the child had called it because of the shape of the unshakable leaves. ( She had been informed, of course, that there were many maple trees in the forest and that they all had star-shaped leaves, but she had insisted.)

Perched upon one of Star Tree's particularly high branches, poking out from amongst the leaves, was a small face and a pair of big black eyes. So large were the eyes in fact, that among all else, he could still see them twinkling roguishly apart from the foliage even from on the ground.

"Little girl, you come down from there this very moment!"

"No!"

"You are bound to get yourself hurt, you senseless child!"

"I am not a little girl and I'm not senseless either!"

"I swear to you, I will climb up there and I fetch you myself!"

"Pfft. Come on up there's plenty of room."

"Do you think I'm being facetious?"

"Facetious? Man, what the heck does that mean? I think you're bein' super lame, if that's what you're trying to say."

He hissed.

"You know," she said matter-of-factly, "you try to sound smart, but you just end up sounding really stupid."

There was a girl. Her skin was a creamy shade of mocha. Honeyed with olive undertones whispering at an unmistakable Eastern descent. She had a tiny, twitchy nose, but her were eyes were dark and huge. Like shiny black lumps of coal, her eyes were wide and sparkling with curly lashes, making her appear much like a bunny. Yes. A bunny.

She was sixteen years of age but appeared (and sometimes acted) half her age, so despite what she believed, she was in fact quite little. In size that is, not personality.

This is Chartreuse. Or "Char" as she much preferred to be called. She is very loud, very stubborn, and very, very, very...

Human.

"Come down."

"Uh-uh."

"Come down."

"Nah."

"Come down."

"Nopity nopity nope."

See?

There was a huff. "If you are not on the ground in precisely ten seconds, I am coming after you. One...two—"

"How old do you think I am? Like five?"

He squinted his eyes tightly, aggravation building as he counted through the single digits. "Nine and a half...nine and three quarters..."

There was a man. He was lean and long. His skin was as smooth and white as a blanket of snow untouched by the imprints of dirty shoes. His face ,though hard around the edges, emitted a hint of youthfulness and yet a profound elegance, as if it been chiseled out of a fine marble. His hair was ink that had been poured from the height of his broad forehead and spilled down his neck in narrow paths and fanned out at his shoulders like black spiders' legs. His nose was on the pointy side and his lips were a cherry red but as thin as if they had been drawn by newly sharpened coloured pencil. His eyes were a emerald green, glowing, filled with knowledge and perhaps a bit of sadness. Yes, much sadness. Yet, if looked at in the right light, they would glisten brightly with some hidden amusement as if they had just been looking at something quite funny.

He was very shy and didn't try to draw undue attention to himself. He was very quiet, too. Which was okay, Char did enough chattering for the both of them. But today, he was feeling cranky and irritable, which for him was quite out of character. Char was also the reason for this, as you will see.

"Ten."

He opened his eyes. Char hadn't moved. She was smiling mockingly. She knew all too well that he wasn't going about to scale that fourty-foot tree.

He just about had had enough of her nonsense. He shouted, "Come. Down. Right. Now!"

"N-O-P-E!"

He made a surprisingly hideous growl. A cross between a small bear and a wild boar.

Right now, he was not very happy.

It had been exactly two weeks, six days, thirteen hours, and twenty-six minutes since Loki Laufeyson-Odinson had met Chartreuse Bhatia.

It had been a rather uncomfortable yet memorable introduction. Neither he nor his father would ever forget that bizarre, harrowed day.

It seemed like had been eternity since that evening. Several lifetimes since the days he'd spent trapped, alone in the darkness. But that was over now. No more cold. No more suffering. His recovery, though, was far from a sudden one. The pain was fierce enough. But the fear was astronomical. At first, he avoided all possible contact with her. It was not necessarily she herself whom Loki had been afraid of, it was fear of being found, being returned.

It had taken him days to even begin speaking again.

Even now it was difficult to even leave the house as well as stay indoor. Which was a peculiar predicament he found himself in. In the rooms, behind the doors, lingering in the drapes, hiding amidst the shadows, peering in through the windows. Sometimes he could still hear them. Feel them. See them.

Char ,though, had kept him busy. Her constant raucous behaviour called for persistent attentiveness. She did not allow for him to remain idle and loiter in ominous thought for lengths of time. She was always running from something. Or asking him questions. Or hiding from him. Or taking things.

Especially taking things.

Keeping up with her was tiresome. Practically relentless. Yet, in odd way, he almost could be thankful for that. On the other hand, he was definitely not thankful when she did something very risky and/or foolish and deliberately put herself (or the both of them) in harms way. Which was approximately ninety percent of the time.

Loki exhaled, folded his hands together, set them upon his nose, and said, rather jadedly, in what was normally a very polished British tone, "Why not, Chartreuse?"

Char made her explanation like it was the most obvious reason in the universe. "If I come down, you'll tag me and then I'll lose. I don't lose. Ever. I've held the record since I was seven. I can't risk you messing that up."

Mind you, Char was sixteen years old. Sixteen. Remember that.

Loki dragged his hands down his face very, very, very slowly, obscuring and molding around his porcelain skin like play-dough.

"And what did I tell you about calling me Chartreuse?! My name is **Char**! C-H-A—"

Char had a bad habit of making things difficult for Loki. In order to satisfy her evidently great need to frustrate the poor man, she often would come up with a rather arbitrary idea on the way to wherever they were going. With which, after pleading for about ten minutes straight without let up, Loki would be forced to participate in. Chartreuse called this, "having fun".

Today's episode of "having fun" happened this way:

"I'm tellin' you man, this trail gets like five times longer every time we take it."

"Stop your exaggerating, Chartreuse, really."

"But this is taking forever!"

"Your persistent whining isn't making the trip any less challenging."

"Whatever. I still say it's taking longer."

"No. It is not."

"I'll tell you why it's taking longer," she pointed at his feet,"You're walkin' like Frankenstein!"

Loki looked at her funny. "What in the **realm** is" he juggled the unfamiliar word on his tongue, "Frankenstein?"

Char eventually learned that there were certain references he didn't understand. She also eventually got tired of explaining them. "Forget it."

A few minutes went by. He was getting increasingly uneasy. Like clockwork, Loki could just tell that she was getting ready to try and vex him again.

"I have an idea about how we can pass the time."

"I don't want to hear it."

"But it'll get us there faster. Guaranteed." She raised her right hand.

"No." he shook his head. He refused to accompany her in any more of her foolishness.

Char grumbled things under her breath.

They went a little further a ways, then there was a pause.

Without warning, Char slapped Loki on the arm. "Tag," she smirked, "you're it."

Loki looked at her in shock, "What?"

Char scurried up the beaten path, knowing how to get him to follow. Gee, she hadn't played tag in years. If they ran, it would cut the commute time at least by half. Plus, she knew how she would win.

She tested her theory. "Just FYI, Loki, Frankenstein is a big, ugly monster with huge feet and no friends. AND he stinks!"

She then proceeded to stick her tongue out. "Nyeh!"

Loki stared at her in utter disbelief which transformed into a malicious glower. Displaying that look of death that he hadn't used in so very,very long.

Char's smile had vanished.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Char rocketed down the dirt lane and around the bend, screaming her lungs out the entire way as Loki came after her.

Loki hadn't wanted to play. He hadn't wanted to play at all.

But, it wasn't until he'd chased Char all through The Woode and then searched high and low for her after she'd performed one of her infamous disappearing acts and THEN found her ensconced into the heights of one of the largest trees in the forest for him to realize that he'd been fooled...into playing that rather mundane children's game. Tag.

Not to mention quite possibly another. Hide-And-Seek.

This child was going to drive him to insanity.

"I will not tag you, Chartreuse." he continued.

"Well, howda' I know that?"

"Because," he said through his teeth, "I am not playing with you."

Char hung upside down from the limb, her dark hair raining from her head in rivers. The branch bobbed so dangerously, Loki had a mini heart attack and stretched out his arms and braced himself in case she fell. When she didn't, he screamed at her to be careful.

She smirked,"You were playing though. You chased me."

"I was not chasing you, I was—"

Loki stopped himself in midsentence, searching for an alternate answer but found none. It seemed as though she got him. Char grinned wider, loving it all the more.

He changed the subject. "You ran off out of my sight, like I told you explicitly not to. I have been searching for you for a half an hour! This woode is dark and dangerous and is teemed with frightful creatures. Some that even **I** haven't ever heard of. When you do things such as this, I haven't an inkling of where you are and I do not wish to be responsible if you get killed."

He stopped. "Now do you understand?"

Char was quiet.

"Do you understand?" he repeated with enunciation.

Char huffed. What she didn't understand was why he was concerned about her in the first place. Char never had to answer to anyone. Now she had to.

"Yes." she answered bitterly.

Loki ran his hand through his inky hair, calming down. Perhaps that would discourage her from running away for at least twenty-four hours until he would have to repeat the entire speech again.

"Good. Now come down from there."

Char enormous eyes were half-lidded with annoyance. She obediently, though with defiance, clambered down, and Loki watched with trepidation as she swung from branch to branch, cringing as she tottered. Nimbly, she landed crouched on two feet and stood, whisking her hair from her face.

Loki gazed at her, eyebrow raised.

As a city girl, did she climb trees? No. Ten story buildings? Yes. Was there much difference? Yeah, the former was easier.

"I hate you." she said blankly, dusting herself off and approaching him.

Loki smiled shyly, feeling less brave now that the little menace was down on the ground again.

They began walking down the lane, crunching and kicking browned leaves with each footfall of their shoes—her yellow rainboots and his black leathers.

Loki was a bit put off by how bitter she looked. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, her brows pushed hard lines above her eyes.

"What's the big deal anyways? You're always nagging me. Bossing me around."

She scoffed, "Who do you think you are, my dad?"

As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could snatch them out of the air and stuff them in her pockets, muffling them like a chirping bird. But, alas, there they went. Loki, unexpectedly, reacted immediately. He stopped walking. His head snapped in her direction.

"Of course not." Loki quipped. He reacted perhaps too quickly. Too forcefully.

He saw her dark eyes fall to the floor for a fraction of a second. He'd seen it. If he had blinked he would have missed it. "I mean," He hadn't meant it quite that way. He said softer, faltering on his words, "I'm not."

Her eyes were, hard, sullen, screwed ahead of her, refusing to make contact with his. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki part his lips like he was going to say something else. But he didn't. This snagged her attention.

Char took her eyes off the road and peered up at him, darkly. Surveying him, his every feature. His pale face was smeared with a trace of embarrassment. Not the pants-fall-down-in-the-middle-of-the-street embarrassment. It was more of the hiccup-loudly-in-the-middle-of-a-quiet-room-and-everyone-looks-at-you-for-a-second embarrassment.

Char was a firm believer in that whatever is left unsaid is the most important. And. If there was anything that she knew about people, was that everyone had a tell. Even she had one. Hers was her nose. It twitched ever so faintly to the right when she was lying.

Loki had one too. It wasn't hard to find. Behind his eyes. Whenever he was concealing himself there also was something shut behind his eyes. Those emerald crystal balls hid a secret behind their shimmering glass.

Char saw it for that brief moment and she wouldn't forget she saw it, even as it faded and walked away from the window and closed the shutters.

Char grabbed it though before it vanished from sight. She took it and placed it inside his words. Now it translated differently. The few words she found made all of the difference in world.

"I'm not." Loki had said, "_But I sometimes I wish that I was._"

Char stared. Delight blossomed across her face. Loki remembered what her expression looked like. A firi in bloom. Her little nose scrunched up a little bit. To the right. Like a bunny.

"It's okay." she said.

Loki was relieved, he had been sure Char wouldn't have forgiven him. Without warning, Char took his hand gently. Loki's eyes popped open.

Char smiled at him but said nothing to explain herself and began strolling up the road. It was less strolling actually. It was more Char tugging him along.

Loki's eyes were enlarged, dilated almost, both confused and dazed by this new and sudden contact. His cheeks were rosy. He was tense for the first few moments, but as they hiked side-by-side ,as if by magic spell, he was put at ease. Happy, without a single shame in the world. A feeling it seemed he hadn't had in years. He followed close behind as she swung his arm his arm back and forth like a pendulum.

His hand was cold, like a pediatrician in a doctor's office. But it was cold enough outside to balance it out. She didn't mind.

The trees that loomed on either side of the lane began thinning out like hairs on a receding hairline. Char thought back on how she'd teased him before. Loki was far from Frankenstein's monster. He wasn't stinky. Obviously. The guy took more baths than she did. Okay—she sneaked a peak at his boots—maybe he had big feet. But he wasn't what she would call ugly (funny-looking perhaps). And yeah, he didn't have _friends. _But he did have one _friend_. She grinned to herself, picking up pace as they neared the edge of The Woode. In record time, of course.

They stood atop the hill and looked down at the little village sweeping across the opposite mountainside. They had arrived. Char was the only one admiring the view though. Loki was actually looking at Char instead.

She was a pain in every sense of the word, but secretly, without any notion of why, Loki adored her.

"It's okay." she had said.

There was something else she'd wanted to say too, but kept silent.

But that was okay. Char wasn't the only one that was smart.

Her nose gave her away.

Loki had her figured out too.

"It's okay," she had said. "_I sometimes wish you were my father, too._"

Char's fingers were still intertwined in his. Loki decided to break the silence.

"Chartreuse?"

Char tossed him a threatening glare.

"Char," he corrected swiftly. "You are holding my hand."

Char heart leapt into her throat. She was, wasn't she? She'd almost forgotten after a while. This was awkward, for the both of them. Char peered upwards at the much, much taller being, bashfully, feeling a weird heat rush into head.

Loki gave a smirk, one of which he hadn't used in quite some time.

"I do believe this means you are 'it'."

Char gasped. She looked at her hand. He was touching her. He was right.

Loki grinned, let go of her hand, and threw a challenging glance down the slope below.

Before Char could put together what he was about to do, Loki darted down the peak.

Char gasped again.

"Why you little—" she took off, tripping down the mountainside after him,"Hey! That's not fair! Get back here!"

Loki laughed, his legs, like stilts, took him farther and farther away from her.

Tag was not **just** for children, after all.

_**REVIEW! peese.**_


	3. Chapter Three--Hatched

**_Hi everyone!_**

**_Oh my goodness, it is SO good to be back._**

**_Okay, legit excuses this time guys. _**

**_Exams were killer this year (came this close to failing Honors Pre-Cal *puts two fingers together*). _**

**_I seriously thought I was going to die. _**

**_I hate Junior year._**

**_Also. YouTube video-making. I've been totally neglecting you guys by pursuing this new (and very addicting) hobby._**

**_I apologize._**

**_I don't want to self promote or talk about videos or anything but...if you guys are having problems sleeping at night I suggest you checking out ASMR on Youtube. It may be weird at first but it's definitely worth the look if you have anything like anxiety or insomnia or just get really stressed sometimes like me._**

**_It's. so. wonderful. *looks off into distance* _**

**_*realizes you're still there*_**

**_*coughs*_**

**_Okay enough with that._**

**_Aren't you guys PSYCHED for the break?!_**

**_-PetiteElefant_**

**_P.S.-Seriously guys, if I'm not updating you seriously need to bug me on YouTube and be like "Hey" *poke* *poke* "Get back to writing. Now.". I'll be like *comes out of daze* "Oh yeah, my fanfic!"_**

**_Channel name: Petite Elefant_**

**_Reviews:_**

**_Chapter 2_**

**_sparki111-Hey chickadee! Yeah. Leaving Peyton was a bummer. But, oh my goodness, she totally _****_doesn't_****_ have to be gone. Char is BASICALLY Peyton but with a MUCH better background story and...she's Indian (but still acting pretty black). And haha, yes, your tree. It's really upsetting that fall is over but winter is really nice right now (for the time being). And YOU Missy *pokes you in the stomach* definitely need to check out my channel. I miss you. You need to enjoy this wonderful realm with me. _**

**_Arrowhead1996-OMG thank you! I must have almost been dreaming while writing that description of Loki. I wanted it to be elegant yet a bit funny as well. (Especially when I said his lips look like someone drew them with a red coloured pencil. :DDDD)_**

**_Ninjaavengergal-Thank you! Glad your sister likes it too! Love your username by the way. The Avengers needs a ninja. (Widow does not count.)_**

**_Pilar-Awwww! I'm so glad that my reply made your day! Yours did equally as well! I was like *gasp* she said I made her day *squeal*! Yay! I'm glad you love Char. I love her too. Oh, yeah, Peyton is definitely Char. I was just getting tired of having an OC with my middle name as her name... and a terrible background. And yeah, your name is beautiful. Chelsea is so-meh._**

**_Thanks everyone for the reviews and enjoy this amazingly out-of-setting chapter. It was so weird writing all of these new characters._**

**_You will have questions. Trust me._**

**Chapter Three: Hatched**

* * *

_Somewhere in Manhattan...in the past somewhere too._

So. One day I woke up and got this brilliant plan, 'aight?

Don't leave.

No really. It was pretty spectacular.

It was like one of those things that comes to you in one of those severely awesome, action-packed dreams where everything for a moment just...

Slows down.

Then it hits you. Like standing in the middle of the tracks in front the Metro North subway train.

But. Originally, everyone thought it was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Stupid. Crazy.

They said it was totally screwy, unwarranted, unreasonable, and even un-American. "What did that come to you in a dream or something?" one of them had said. Of course I lied and said "No, you idiot."

But nobody wanted to hear it. Because I was Itty Bit. And apparently, this meant I was a joke.

Yes. Itty Bit. That's literally what they called me. I hated it. So. Fricken. Much.

"Of course they'll be money you morons!" I had screamed that morning, throwing my arms in the air after they'd told me –**me** the one who thought up the idea in the first place—that there couldn't possibly be any profit.

"It'll be the awesomest thing we ever pull!"

Everyone always told me that my voice was three times as big as I was, which I always thought was kind of unfair. Because-um, hello- Nobody_ listened_ to me when I was quiet. So, naturally, I was loud.

Duh.

Thankfully, though, when I got super loud that's when they finally began to pay attention. Because of course—though they never admitted it—they were all a teensy bit scared of me.

And I mean, who wouldn't be?

Anyways.

I wasn't stupid though. I was not about to spill the details of my brilliant plan until everyone cashed in. Just because I was the youngest didn't mean I didn't know how the game was played.

"No one gets ta' even breathe on the prints until ya' all pay up," I said (loudly of course) rubbing my two fingers together.

"Prints?" they'd said, surprised.

We had discussing the options of a possible new heist in the basement (also known as "The Base").

Just to go a bit off topic, The Base wasn't exactly underground. It was just that the upper level was called the first floor when it should have been the second. Ironically, there was a real, legit basement underneath of us where the boys slept. But we'd all agreed that "First Floor" didn't sound as cool as "The Base", so we just went with it.

The Base was one large room with concrete floors and high ceilings. It, as the name implied, was our base. (Headquarters as Melvin often tagged it.) It was all brick and had huge ducts snaking around, dangling way above our heads like a giant silvery caterpillar. But neither the air conditioning nor the heat ever worked so they just sat there in their uselessness, collecting dust.

The building was completely abandoned aside from us. And even though we resided there, it still never looked lived in. There was no furniture save a rickety bunk bed that Blue and I shared shoved near the back wall away from the drafty windows. Aside from the bed was a circle of brown rusty metal folding chairs in the centre of the room where we sat and 'discussed' things.

It was December then. It was cold, really cold. Snow in New York was just an everyday reminder that it was just going to keep **getting **colder. So to keep ourselves warm we had to bring in electric heaters and plug them in around the very edges of the room(—all of the extension cords were always hooked up to all this fancy equipment. Melvin would slay us if we tried to unplug his precious computer-hardware-geekery).

"Perhaps if somebody had brought in a repair guy we wouldn't be freezing our butts off," we would all complain to Drake from who was in charge of the household affairs. He was in charge of everything as a matter of fact. "We can't," he'd said. "We can't blow our cover, we just got here."

Everything was always can't with him.

I need to make something clear.

I. hated. Drake.

He treated me like the baby of the group, which was super irritating considering we were all around the same age. He was twenty. Blue was nineteen. Gordon was twenty-one. Melvin was eighteen. I was sixteen. What was the problem? I don't know.

Everything that came out of Drake's mouth, at least towards me, was always in this soft yet reprimanding tone like a mother telling her kid to quit running in the supermarket.

Ironically, this dude was our boss. Which meant what he said goes. Which at the same time meant that what he didn't say **didn't **go, which was just as bad.

Basically, even if the others didn't agree with me about my new idea, it was really Drake I had to worry about. He's the one I had to convince.

"What prints, It?" Drake said in that sigh of a voice like a father being told by his son that there was homicidal monster raging in their backyard.

'It' was short for Itty Bit which not only made me feel little but on top of that like an inanimate object.

Good times.

Anyway.

Instead of retaliating, I walked over and kicked a plastic tube from underneath my bunk bed. Everyone stared at me as I picked up the white plastic container, almost as long as my body, and held it behind my back.

"These prints," I said, smirking, putting the heels of my yellow rain-boots together and tilting up my head.

Unfortunately, all I saw was a sea of blank looks of disinterest. Except for Blue. Her eyebrow was raised. Blue the only one who seemed to take me seriously even though she pretended not to like me sometimes. But the unavoidable truth was she was nuts. I was nuts. We fit. We couldn't get away from that.

Blue leaned back in her metal folding chair with a rusty creak. She ran a hand through coily, golden hair and tried not to wince as one of her fingers got caught in a tangle. Her eyes were small, serious, and –yeah you guessed it—blue. A rather bold navy.

Every time she spoke (unless she was excited) it always sounded like she had just finished eating Saltine crackers. It was a low, collected tone, even as she said something like, 'Yes, that was a real grenade I put under your boyfriend's pillow. You're welcome.' She could have just had a gun pointed at her she would still look and sound as bored as a student who'd just been assigned twelve pages of homework.

Despite her constant apathetic tone, I could always tell on the inside how she was feeling. She was a fantastic actress, but I could always tell when she was secretly itching to do something wild.

"How much?" she inquired dryly.

That was my Blue. I smiled. "Thirty-six," I said.

A collective 'Thirty-six!' erupted from the circle, even Blue looked at me like I was insane.

"You must be outta ya' dang mind, It," said Gordon, throwing a dismissive gesture at her with one his brown, beefy hands. Gordon was our big man. He was the guy who did all of the literal 'heavy-lifting' in our jobs.

They'd thought I'd meant thirty-six hundred. Who did they think I was, a crack-pot? I mean these were my friends, right?

Chill guys," I said putting my hands up, "Thirty-six period."

Everyone's faces changed then. Melvin staid look broke as he started laughing. "Thirty-six dollars?" he said, "What are you gonna' do with thirty-six dollars, It? Buy yourself a new dress?"

Everyone started laughing.

My face hardened and I rolled my eyes. What Melvin said was supposed to be funny because I did not wear dresses. Ever. The only time I had to was when I had to play 'the sweet, innocent little girl' in one of our plots, which, sad to say, happened fairly often.

"You'll see," I said shoving myself in between Melvin and Drake and stalking towards the centre of the circle of chairs.

"Just thirty-six dolla's, It? I don't see were this green is doing much good if this is such an elaborate scheme," Gordon said, sitting up straighter in the chair that was literally bowing underneath his massive weight.

"Gourd, what do I look like, huh?" I rolled my eyes, "that's just how much this whole thing is going to cost. One hundred and eighty."

I shrugged and brushed my hands against each other. "Done."

Gordon nodded, though with a noticeable bit of skepticism. Never in the history of The Crew had something supposedly so big, cost so little to put out.

"What are you gonna' do , It? Just walk in and take it?" Melvin said crossing one of his long, skinny leg over the other.

Stick Man is what we all called him. Tall with his striking red hair and bright green eyes and kind of pointy ears, he looked like an elf coming out of a pasta machine, all stretched out. Melvin was our go-to guy for hacking into databases and disabling security hardware and stuff like that. He hated being called 'Mel', which is exactly why I addressed him as such.

"No, Blue is, **Mel**." I said, putting emphasis on the final word. He rolled his eyes behind his small, black frames.

Her blue eyes popped. "What," she said with real, actual surprise in her voice.

"C'mon guys! This'll be great! We even get to TRAVEL." I muttered under my breath, "Or at least I get to..."

That last sentence they didn't hear.

"Travel where?" asked Gordon.

"That's the surprise," I said grinning.

"There seems to be a lot of these surprises," said Drake.

All attention fell on Drake who had been quiet up until now.

"Because it's my plan."

It was true. It was mine. Entirely mine. I didn't get the idea from anyone. At least I didn't think I had.

Drake seemed unconvinced. His thick dark brow was peaked on his forehead. He was looking at me again with that not-necessarily condescending look but with a knowing air like 'Really, It…really?'

A tiny smile sprouted on his cupid's bow pinching his lips into a little raisin. That's what he looked when he smiled, like he just sucked on something sour.

"Come on now, It," he said in that aggravatingly calm voice, "Let's be reasonable. There's no point in—"

"We could all be millionaires!" I interrupted, finally exploding. "The ends would tie up seamlessly! We would never go to jail!"

All I got was stares like I'd just said that man never went to the moon.

"This is the most perfect plan ever you MORONS!" I hollered glaring at everyone. I slammed the plastic tube on the ground and the clatter emanated an echo that bounced around the enormous room.

The room fell silent save the low, warm hum coming from the electric heaters.

I knew these guys for years. They couldn't trust me? Obviously it was a crazy plan, that's what made it amazing.

"Look, I can do this alone." I pierced them with black daggers, "I don't need your help."

With that, I stamped over to the back door.

"Are you sure about that?"

It had been Drake's voice, I knew it. But I didn't say anything back. I left. I was done with them. Or...so I had thought.

As soon as the heavy, dark green metal door slammed shut, Blue shot Drake a glare.

"What did you have to go and do that for," Blue said. "She was just trying to help. You didn't have to go and shut her down like that."

Drake scoffed in disbelief. "What did you want me to do, Blue, say yes? Yes, let us risk everything and rob the richest guy in Manhattan?!"

Blue hissed, "No, but you could have at least given her a chance. The kid's been with us for ten years. You could at least listen to her for once."

"She's too impulsive," said Drake getting up and picking up the tubular container off of the ground, "You know that. She doesn't know how to keep cool under pressure. She's been a threat to us for years."

Gordon immediately jumped in, "What are you trying to say that you've been meaning to get rid of her?"

He stood up and threateningly walked over to Drake, his huge muscles visibly moving underneath his leather jacket with every step. "Because I have a problem with that," he said.

Drake tried not to look intimidated; he knew Gordon would defend me to the ends of the Earth. Drake knew better than to say anything to incite Gordon for fear of being squished like a squirrel underneath the tires of a bus.

"No, she just needs to be taught that what we do isn't a game," Drake spat, scooting is chair a tad away from Gordon.

"I thought it was," Blue said under her breath, peering at her fingernails. Drake dismissed Blue's comment.

Melvin, who always sided with Drake like the brown-noser he was, said, "She's too much of a hothead." She'll get herself killed one of these days."

"I don't see why you guys rag on her so bad. She's an important part of our team."Gordon countered rotating his head to look at each of them.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Nobody denied it.

Gordon continued "She is the youngest but that also means she's—"

"The least experienced," injected Drake.

"The most adaptable," corrected Gordon, snapping his head toward our leader.

Again, everyone kind of looked down at the floor for a second. If I had been there, if I had known he had said that, I would had probably ran up and given Gordon a hug. I never realized it but kind of like Blue—he was actually really supportive and there for me most times.

I never thanked him.

"You know she really is going to do this alone right?" Gordon said.

They all knew me well. I didn't say I was going to do something without going through with it. There was a collective sigh and everyone nodded.

"I still think she's a hothead," Melvin grumbled, pushing his glasses away to keep them from falling off his nose.

Melvin is the only one who has admitted not liking me. Ever since I infected his MacBook Air laptop with the Black Storm virus a couple of years ago as a practical joke. I said I was sorry and I even bought him a new laptop.

He still hasn't forgiven me for that.

The rat.

Blue, without saying anything, snatched the plastic tube away from her boss, and giving everyone the I-dare-you-to-take-this-back-from-me glare, popped off the cap, slid out a giant roll of papers, and set it out on the floor.

A large glossy diagram of the layout of the building, some scripts, and a list of supplies with cost all barreled out of the tube. Everyone gathered around Blue like a hungry flock of birds—curious. Even Drake and Mel.

Blue lifted up the supply sheet with some apparent number crunching scribbled all over it. She tapped at the number at the bottom. Circled in red crayon (everything had been written in crayon) was a figure. $180.

Drake exhaled again and scratched the back of his head. It could be said that he had grown two new grey hairs that day.

"What's she got?" he asked un-enthusiastically.

"Everything," Blue said with surprise, rifling and scanning the blueprints of the tower.

Gordon and Melvin knelt down and took their hands through the papers, nodding, equally impressed.

Drake grunted and slumped down in his chair. Silence ensued.

"When does she plan on doing it?" he said exhaustedly, praying for a date sometime next month where they could have enough time to effectively prepare everything.

"Um," Blue stared at the outline sheet sticking out on a pink sheet of construction paper and hesitated before saying, "today."

Drake slapped both of his hands over his face heaving with what have could have been laughter or tears.

"Of course!" he exclaimed.

"I'm gonna' kill 'er," Gordon said, bowing his head.

"Let's get started," Blue smirked.

"Not so fast."

Drake moseyed down next to them once again. Melvin was squinting at a little slip over the rims of his glasses. Suddenly Blue gasped. Her eyes stopped on a piece of paper with more scribbling strewn all over it. Her eyes passed over it again, rereading at top speed and gasped again like she was seeing it for the first time. Everyone craned their necks to see what she was looking at.

Names were printed in an astonishingly neat list. Figures and prices scrawled adjacent to them in green crayon.

Drake took the paper from her.

"What the heck is she trying to pull?" Blue said with what may have sounded like a combination of anxiousness and fear.

Drake scanned the document, twice, before slapping it on top of the messy pile with a shocked expression upon his face. "Oh my Lord, I know what she's trying to do."

"What?" everyone chorused.

"This," he picked it up again, tracing it with his fingers before laughing. Loudly. "This is not original!"

"That figures." Melvin huffed.

"What is it then?" Gordon said, hovering above him.

Drake laughed even louder, as he flipped over some of the papers for reaffirm it. "It's the Mona Lisa."

That turned the heads of the remaining three teammates.

"Woah, woah, a minute now," Gordon said, shaking his head and waving his arms about. Gordon was smart but, oftentimes, he was easily confused.

"Hold up, I thought she was trying to steal that rich guy's robot."

"She is," Drake clarified, "but she's using the Mona Lisa scam."

Blue grinned. She'd heard about that one countless times. She'd always dreamed that she'd pull off something that big.

Her eyes grew as a smile stretched across her fair face. "Ooh. I likey the Mona Lisa."

"Didn't that dude Pergy-something steal the Mona Lisa?" Gordon gazed up at the ceiling as if the answer was written there.

Drake said without lifting his eyes from the paperwork before him,"Uh, I think it was Peruggia. Yeah, Vincenzo Peruggia, 1911."

Blue's face scrunched up, her eyes virtually disappearing. "I thought it was that Valfierno guy."

"No," Drake shook his head as he concentrated on a particular level in the blueprints, "There was a lot of controversy but it was definitely Peruggia."

Melvin rolled his eyes at the three of them. "Can't believe It's trying to fake another guy's bit." he said, changing the subject.

Gordon was going to, as was his way, defend me again but decided to ignore Melvin's comment. Instead he said, "We've never done a Mona Lisa, Drake. This is not The Louvre."

"I know."

Drake was staring at the papers, though you knew he was just spacing out. Deliberating. You could see gears turning in his head as he weighed all of the possibilities. He closed his eyes. The wheels stopped.

"I guess there's a first time for everything."

"Woo!" Blue cried, throwing her fists in the air, the giddier side of her blossoming, wiping away her flat personality. "That means yes right?"she whispered frantically in Gordon's ear.

Gordon laughed and clapped his hands. Melvin moaned. Drake smirked, that familiar light of cunning brightening up his face. "Let's go steal us a million dollar suit."

And that's how it began guys.

But, uh. Just to make one more thing clear.

I actually had never thought about the Mona Lisa when I came up with the plan. That was totally coincidental.

Of could have sworn that my dream was one of those one-of-a-kind-once-in-a-lifetime-dealios.

But then again, it is a possibility. Great minds do think alike.

And after all...

I am Peruggia's biggest fan.

_**REVIEW!**_


	4. Chapter Four--Coffee Break

_Hello everyone!_

_Man it seems like I haven't seen you guys since last year!_

_*winkety-wink*_

_Omg, I go back to school tomorrow. I was supposed to be back Monday but Georgia has been getting crazy cold and the school system didn't wanna' risk anything._

_IT WAS 1 DEGREES THIS MORNING!_

_It's not even that cold back in NY where I used to live!_

_Anyways, me and my penguin self decided this was way past due._

_Sorry I put off the amazing plot until next chapter. You guys would be overloaded if I just slammed it on you._

_Next chappie, pinky-promise._

_Also!_

_UPDATE: I am going to be breaking this story off into side stories so you guys can get cute/funny/exciting adventure glimpses at Char and Loki in the future if I'm going too slow taking it all in chronological order. (*cough* *cough* Like One Hundred Days was. *cough*)_

_YOU GUYS CAN SEE WHAT OHD WAS __**SUPPOSED **__TO GET TO!_

_How does that sound :DDDD_

_-PetiteElefant_

_P.S- How's your winter (or for those of you on the other side of the planet-summer) going along? Are you a penguin like me this year?_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**DarkMarina-Thank you! Haha, you always cry! Is this going to be a regular with you? JK XD**_

_**Pilar-YESSSS! *pulls punch* I CONFUSED SOMEONE! LOL. Haha, I'm glad you're all mixed up, zat vas dee plan muahahhaha. (In evil Russian voice, just for laughs.) Thank you! I tip my hat in return. P.S.-Yes Char and Itty Bit are the same person(:**_

_**Sparki111-It's my chickadee! OMG thank you! I'm so glad you think Char is the best OC ever. My development of her will give you some surprises. And *gasp* you witty child you. Yes, hehehe, you can forsee the mishaps..yesssss. Oh and I'm not busy, but I'm sure gonna' be tomorrow going back to school ): Bleh.**_

_**Nani-HIHI! I missed youuu! I haven't forgotten about my promise about the Lilo and Stitch thing! Another reason for my wanting to break off side stories for Once Upon a Time, so that one of these days I can get to that. And thank you! I wasn't planning on making any new original characters but I'm glad you guys like them! I really hope you like this story!**_

_**Arrowhead1996-Yup(; But they'll make it. You'll see.**_

_P.S.S.-I'm writing chapter five as we speak!(;_

**Chapter Four: Coffee Break**

* * *

_One day later..._

It was early. Real early, at least for me. It was December 25. Christmas day. A supposedly happy day for the brainwashed zombies who actually subscribed to the trumped up, fanciful idea of the "Christmas" spirit. For those with sense and have their toes planted firmly in reality—basically it was a day they had off of work that they had to spend with family members they didn't like to give them gifts they couldn't really afford to buy. I hated the day for a totally different reason, but that really isn't important right about now.

But anyway.

After departing from the company of my ungrateful crew, I didn't come home that night. This morning, I had hopped on my bike and sped up to my favourite little café on the corner to brew about my predicament. Quite literally.

Ahhem.

At any rate…

Smooshed up against the window in the back of the narrow cafe in my chosen booth, I had been trying to figure out what I was going to do. How to go through with it by myself.

The truth was, though I went through it a million different ways in my head, it couldn't be done. At least not on my own. I was so used to my 'team', it seemed almost impossible to take such an intricate plan and lay it on a single track.

But, as I heard the tinkling of the little door chime above the entrance and the "Of course, she's here. This where she storms off to when she's pissed off." in Blue's tofu-flavoured tone, I knew I wouldn't have to think for very long.

"'Scuse me, did a little girl come in here?" It was Drake's cool and collected voice.

The pimple-nosed teenage employee at the cashier didn't articulate any real words at the sight of burly six and a half foot Gordon standing behind him. "Uh err..."

Gordon rolled his eyes and quipped, "Short. Indian. Yellow boots."

"Oh," the boy piped up and pointed, "Back there, I think."

I closed my eyes and sighed._ Note to self—don't trust the new guy at front counter._

"Heyyyyyy, look who it is." Gordon cried.

Blue lead the group, smiling confidently as she slid into my side of the booth next to me. "Found ya'." she said, smirking at me with pink-lipstained lips.

Drake was right behind her and glided into the seat, landing himself directly across from me with a serious yet calm look. Melvin shuffled in next to Drake with that infamous glower and Gordon managed to squeeze himself on the very end beside him.

_What part of 'I don't need your help' didn't you guys understand, yesterday?_

Drake was staring at me. I could feel his eyes on me. Giving him no regards whatsoever, I casually lifted my jalapeño spiced cappuccino to my lips and took a long sip.

Blue made a face and shielded her mouth with a piece of her curly blonde hair. She never understood my fondness for spice. I told her that seasonings and hot peppers boost your immune system, but she didn't buy it. (Though it was so true.) It was just that food never really tasted good to me unless it had some zest or heat.

Anyway.

I set my cup down. The pepper burned my throat and lit a flame in my belly. There was nothing like Hot Coffee.

"Char?" Drake said forcefully yet still managed to maintain that composed air to his voice.

I didn't make eye contact as I took another swig of my cappuccino. "What," I said coolly with a sarcastic smile, "no 'It' this time?"

"Char." he said darker.

I finally looked up at him, "What, Drake? Changed your mind?"

Drake tilted his head a bit to the side and returned the same facial expression. "Perhaps."

"Hmm." I looked out the window and gazed down a couple of blocks a ways and amidst the snow and the crowds and the traffic, poking arrogantly in the sky and shining with a pristine blue was the Stark Tower. I smiled smugly.

"Got a look at those blueprints, huh?"

"Yep."

"What about my thirty-six?"

"You're...um...not getting it."

I sighed. "That figures."

"Sorry. But it's been settled," Drake said affirmatively, "There are no funds needed the way we are doing this."

I looked to my fellow mates. "Is that so?" I said, leaving Melvin a harder glare than I gave the others.

"Yup."

Well. I got my wish. Drake accepted my idea. Granted, it was a little late, but there was still time.

"Great."

"Although, I did make some changes." Drake said, peering down at the table and scratching some paint off of the wood.

My eyes enlarged to twice their already-pretty-big size. I leaned forward and hissed rather loudly, "What?"

I caught a couple of stares from some people at other tables.

Drake was even-toned, "There were a couple alterations that needed to be made, but I think it's a do-able scheme."

"What do you call 'a couple alterations' Drake?" My voice was not getting quieter.

Melvin grinned slyly as he looked down his nose through those geeky glasses of his at me. "We changed everything."

I shook my head angrily, the heat in my stomach churning. I felt like slapping that stupid smile off of his face.

"We did not change everything," Drake said narrowing his eyes threatening at Mel then redirecting his attention on me. I had turned away, facing the window, watching the wind blow as it spat snow about.

"Chartreuse."

Back then, I still demanded that everyone call me Char. Rarely, did anyone say Chartreuse. Including Drake. What was weird, though, was that when he did say it... he didn't say it like everyone else.

Instead of saying _Share-TROOSE _like a normal person_, _he pronounced it _Shahr-TRUHZ –_gently rolling the second 'r' and everything—as if it were some sort of rare delicacy from a five star restaurant. Technically, my name was French and, technically, that was probably the way it was meant to be pronounced.

Most people when they pronounced it the 'fancy' way usually meant that they were making fun of me. Like, "Ha. Ha. Ha. What's an Indian girl doing with a name like _Chartreuse_?" And that's usually about the time when I would punch someone.

But, Drake always seemed sincere when he said it. Which what always sort of baffled me. Like he **believed **that it should be said like that.

Even though I never really liked him, he was the only person I allowed to call me Chartreuse.

Ever.

"Yeah, Drake," I replied softly, fiddling with the paper label on my cup as I tried to ignore how nice my name had just sounded in his mouth.

"I'm sorry for not taking you seriously, earlier."

I met with his wintery blue eyes. Something pierced me. Gosh, I hated how dead-level genuine they were. They made me feel so guilty.

I nodded, trying not to look at those eyes that were trying to drown me in honesty. It annoyed me, confused me almost, how someone who stole from people (even though it was mostly bad people) could still manage to be so earnest. It made me feel like a loser.

"Yeah. And I'm sorry for calling you a moron."

He laughed. But of course, in a hearty way. "Well," he smiled, "I would have had to have been to say no to such a good plan."

I grinned sheepishly, and then realized what I was doing. I cleared my throat. _Dang it. Stop being nice to me. Don't you know I hate you? _"Thanks."

Drake scratched his temple. "Though you have to admit, Char," He wrinkled his face up a bit but kept a smile, "It is a little crazy."

I laughed. He was right. "True."

"And stolen." Melvin muttered but I hadn't heard him.

Blue chimed in, "So what were you going to do with that one-hundred and eighty anyway, Char? I looked over the plan and there isn't anything that we don't already have or can't borrow from anyone else."

The word 'borrow' really just meant 'steal and then put back later', of course. Now that they were all owning up to it, I decided to tell them what it was for. Plus, I was feeling a bit better since anyone had yet to call me, 'It'.

I shuffled in my seat and wrinkled my nose. "Well, I saw these cufflinks online..."

"Cufflinks," Gordon interrupted, wrinkling his brow. "Now girl, I know you're a bit of a tom-boy but—"

"Let me finish, Gord."

"'Aight, I'll let ya' finish."

I continued, "Yeah these _itty bitty_ cufflinks with USB prongs on the end of them." I made my voice go tiny when I said 'itty bitty'. "They're like secret flash drives."

"Why would you need those, though?" Drake inquired.

"For Pete's sake guys they aren't for **me**."

Did they seriously think I was going to wear cufflinks? Was I really that low on the femininity scale? My maroon leather coat I had taken off (because my coffee had made me a little hot) and laid over the back of the seat. I looked down at my long yellow rain boots, my red suspenders attached to my washed out jeans, and the one black glove I wore over my left hand. Perhaps I needed to re-evaluate my wardrobe a little bit...

Shyly, I cast my gaze at Melvin. "But I thought that Melvin would like them..."

Melvin stared at me. His grimace softened away. His slowly mouth parted into a 'What?'.

I went on. "He could use them for his part. They were the only things I actually needed money for because they were in this online catalogue thing and," I shrugged. "I can't steal things off of the internet."

Everyone's eyes were on Melvin because they knew how much he hated me. How much he bullied me. Gordon's was face was silently filleting Mel like, 'Uh huh. Feel bad, boy. Feel reaaaaaaal bad.'

"So," he shook his head, still trying to put it all together, "You were trying to buy me a cufflinks?"

All heads turned to me.

I rubbed my nose. "Yeah. For the purpose of the mission though." I rolled my eyes. "Not for a Christmas present."

(Yep. They, too, knew my stance on the 'wonderful' holiday.)

His green eyes that I was so used to seeing be squinted at me were sad and hesitant. He pushed up his black, rectangular glasses on his nose, guiltily. "Thanks."

"Yeah. You can still get them. And you can probably hack the check-out page and get them to ship it _Super _-Express for free."

"Super-Express?" Blue said curiously and tilted her head, "Is that a thing?"

"Uh huh." I replied, "That particular retail store has a shop in Manhattan Have them send to some company downtown and have it shipped in the 'business' category **and **Super-Express. If you hurry you could order it and they'd be more than happy to get it shipped out in a couple hours before mail starts being delivered."

I leaned back with my arms crossed and smiled.

He was silent for a moment. "Can I get them in silver?"

I smirked. "Yup."

Another pause. Then...

"SWEET!" He slammed his laptop on the table (which apparently he had kept in his lap underneath the table) and began typing furiously.

Everyone busted out laughing. I gave him the website and Melvin happily punched it into the address bar.

"I'll pay for it, Mel." Drake said, still laughing.

"No need," Melvin replied, holding up one of his hands, "I've been saving up for something new for a while."

"Melvin's got himself a new toy." Blue jested, poking him in the arm across the table.

Melvin made a face at Blue as he clicked away. He fist-pumped a few seconds later when he evidently sent his order in.

"Woo-hoo! It'll be shipped to Goldmine Jewellers' to be picked up by a Michael Kors—AKA me—in approximately three hours." He rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"That's awesome." Gordon said.

"Thanks, It," said Melvin.

I shrugged. "You bought it."

Melvin smiled. "Hey, I guess I did. Thanks, anyway though for..." he paused, "You know."

I nodded. "No prob. But hey, would it kill ya' to call me 'Char'?"

He rolled his eyes. "I **guess **not."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Swell."

"Speaking of gadgets," Melvin said pulling something out of his pockets, "I've got something for you, Blue."

Blue gasped.

Melvin put his hands up, "I echo Char in that this is just for the purpose of the mission."

In his hand was a little white box and he handed it to her. With bugged eyes Blue opened the box, "Wow, Mel!"

Inside was a pair of diamond-cut sapphire stud earrings. Amazingly enough, they were just as dark as her own deep blue eyes. A perfect match.

"Oh my goodness, Mel, these are gorgeous!" she beamed, her plain voice going out the window. "What do they do?"

"The earrings are a pair of elite quality microphones and speakers that both receive and transmit high frequency sounds waves that imitate the directional pickup patterns of the human ear—"

"Mel, English please." Drake deadpanned.

Melvin cleared his throat. "Basically they're miniature walkie-talkies. Who's ever on the receiving end can hear everything that's going on around you yet can talk back to you without anyone else hearing. So we can all communicate without letting on."

Blue immediately put them in her ears. "I feel like a spy."

Melvin laughed, "I have a pair for everyone except in bud-form." He spread a few peach-coloured nibs the size of pencil erasers on the table.

"Sorry I didn't make an earring pair for you Char but I know you don't really like jewellery."

I nodded, "It's cool."

"But I do have this." He reached inside his other pocket and fiddled with something in his hand. I immediately snatched it. It was a little gold crescent shaped thingamabob with a clasp on it. It looked like a ring but was super small, even for my fingers.

"What is it?"

"It's one of those fake ear cuff thingies." he said, waving his hand disinterestedly.

My face brightened, "Holy crap, it's like those things that make it look like you've got your cartilage pierced."

I stuck it on my upper ear and peered at my reflection in the window. "Oh that's so awesome. This kind of earring I can take."

I swept my hair behind my ear. It had a design I recognized as this sort of floral Morrocan-ish pattern. It was simple enough to not be girly, but it was still me. I loved it.

The boys each grabbed a pair of the plain ear buds and stuck them in their ears.

"These are cool, Melvin." said Gordon, probing the tiny piece of rubber.

"Stellar job as usual, Mel," Drake said, giving him a nod of approval. He folded his hands, "Now to business."

Drake uncovered a single slip of paper and slid it confidently onto the table.

I knit my brows together. "Where's the prints and all the other stuff?"

"Don't need it," he replied.

I exhaled and closed my eyes. "Apparently not."

"Guys," Drake said, smiling at each member of the crew, "let's go over the revised edition of the plan."

"Revised." I echoed.

"Wait, before we begin," Gordon edged in, "I have to know something, Char."

I was listening.

"What bone could you possibly have to pick with the world famous Tony Stark?"

"He's rich, powerful, and disgustingly arrogant." I shrugged. "What better reason do I have that to humiliate him in front of everyone on his biggest day of the year? Plus, make a fortune off of it."

Everyone paused for a minute then collectively nodded.

"Sounds good enough to me." Gordon said, crossing his arms across his broad, muscular chest.

"So," Drake injected, "Stumble the big guy who feels like he's on top of the world and while he's standing tall, take him for all he's got?"

"Yup."

"Huh," he ran his fingers through his neat, dark brown hair. "I guess you have learned a thing or two over the years."

I smiled, bigger than ever, and took another sip of my jalapeño cappuccino.

"Alright," the boss clapped his hands together, "let's give this guy the best Christmas he's ever had."

**_REVIEW!_**

**_Excitement ahead..._**


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